After School Special
by studentnumber24601
Summary: In which Dutchy is a jock, Specs is a nerd, and high school cliches are turned upside down. [Modern day. Slash.]


**_After School Special_** **_Prologue_**

Specs's gaze traveled across the room lazily, and he sighed and leant back in his chair. So this was what it was like to not have any work to do. He'd forgotten. He hadn't had a single free study hall since the seventh grade, which was now almost a full four years ago. But somehow, he'd gotten all of his homework finished the night before, and didn't need to get a headstart on the stuff from his morning classes because it was a light enough load that he'd finished it in class itself. And none of the clubs he belonged to were abusing his organizational abilities at the moment, which hadn't happened in two years either. 

He tapped his fingers against the desk, bored. 

"Quit it." 

David didn't look up from the lists he was pouring through, though Specs understood why not. David had the misfortune of being in charge of the National Honor Society's can drive, which was always dumped on a sophomore, and since that had been Specs the previous year... Well, he was definitely just as happy to not worry about it. He'd brought the number of cans donated up to a record high when he'd been in charge (which gave David something to live up to, which didn't help him any) but had spent hours on it. So many hours that he'd neglected the Student Council, Yearbook, and Literary Magazine for almost two weeks. 

Really, he had no trouble understanding why people called him an overachiever. 

Which was why he was startled to find himself workless and bored. 

He hated being bored, he remembered suddenly. He'd forgotten, since it hadn't happened in so long. With a sigh, he leant back in his chair, put his arms behind his head and stared up at a wall. 

"You know, this place is a waste," he commented, referring to the Student Resource Center, where he and David were sitting. It was supposed to be the center of student services for the school, particularly tutoring provided by National Honor Society members, but no one actually _used_ it, except for the people who worked there and used it as a spare study hall. 

"Yeah," David agreed absently, reaching for the pair of reading glasses he'd taken off earlier and replacing them on his face. 

"We really _could_ do so much with it. But no one cares that it's here. I don't think anyone even knows it's here." 

"Sure." 

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?" 

"Of course." 

Specs rolled his eyes, then kind of laughed. 

David glanced up, gave him an odd look, and asked, "What?" 

Specs laughed, and David went back to his work. Specs went back to staring at the ceiling. 

"It _is_ a shame. I've been working here for almost two years, and I think only one person has ever come in." 

"Whatever." 

"You're no fun, David." 

"Can drive, Specs." 

Specs nodded and tried to let David go back to work without bothering him, but really needed something to do to keep busy. 

"Maybe I could make us a sign, or write up a set of announcements to advertise us," he mused. "I'll bet they'd love it if—" 

"You don't want to give yourself more work, Specs. You're busy enough as it is." 

"Not today." 

"...But tomorrow?" 

Specs thought about it. There was an NHS meeting that afternoon, and he always left those with a mile long to-do list. So David was right. He shrugged. 

"I just wish _someone_ would come in here..." he mused. 

And as if on cue, the door swung open. David and Specs both looked over, expecting it to be one of the advisors, but no. It was a student. It was actually a student. That never happened at the Student Resources Center. 

He was blond, and wearing a track jersey, because they had a meet that afternoon. His hair was shaggy and fell in his eyes, sort of, as it was blocked by a pair of tiny wire-rimmed glasses, barely noticeable things. "Hey?" he said, leaning in the doorway. 

"Hi," Specs said. "Can we help you?" 

Seeing that Specs would take care of it, David went back to what he was doing. 

"Well, uh." The kid shrugged. "I heard rumors that you guys give out free condoms here." 

Specs nodded. On the rare occasion someone did go to the SRC, it was invariably for that service. Which Specs was glad the school provided, but he kind of wished that once in awhile, people would stop by for _other_ things. 

But no one ever did. So, resigned, he dug into the drawer that housed the objects in question, and fished out the bowl. It was filled to the brim with a startlingly large selection of condoms; everything from flavored and glow in the dark to textured to lubricated. He sat it on the desk, and the kid walked forward. 

"We ask that you take only what you'll use," Specs added. 

The student considered, reached in, and took a generous handful. "That should last me a few days," he noted, and he didn't sound like he was joking. He shot the two kids behind the table a slick smile. "Oh, hey, Dave," he added as an afterthought. 

"Hey, Rob." David didn't look up. 

The student, apparently Rob, shrugged, nodded a little at Specs, and strode out of the room again. Specs watched him go, then sighed. 

"He was _pretty,"_ he noted. 

David looked up, and looked thoughtful for a second. "Yeah, I guess," he agreed. 

"Who is he? He knows you." It was almost an accusation. 

"One of Jack's track team friends. Uh, Robert somethingorother. The team calls him Dutchy, though." 

"Hmmm," Specs mused. "You don't suppose he's _really_ going to use...?" 

"Yeah, probably. He gets around a lot." 

"Gets around?" Specs asked, amused at David's word choice. 

"Yes. To the girls' track team, and the cheerleaders, and the softball team." He paused thoughtfully. "And the baseball team, sometimes. He's kind of, uh... He gets around a lot. With basically anyone willing." 

"Wait, he sleeps with boys?" Specs asked, surprised but slightly pleased. He thought he knew all the gay kids at the school, but he'd never seen Dutchy before. 

"Yeah. But he's not your type, Specs." 

"What makes you say that?" 

"...He's on the track team." 

"So's Jack, and you're dating _him."_

"Yeah, but it doesn't bother me when Jack is disorganized or fails tests. And Dutchy... He fails tests a _lot."_

"But not so much that he's not allowed to run," Specs surmised from Dutchy's track jersey. 

"Are you kidding? He hasn't run at a meet in weeks, he still dresses and goes, but he's totally suspended from competing until he gets his grades up. Which will never, ever happen." 

"I bet it could." 

"...Trust me, Specs. You've never really met the guy. Dutchy's a terminal slacker, I don't think he's going to pass this year, even." 

"Hmmm," Specs mused. "Well, anyway. He's pretty." 

David rolled his eyes and went back to the can drive. And Specs went back to whining about being bored until the period finally ended, and they walked out into the crowded hallway. Specs half-hoped to run into the pretty blond track boy, but aside from a brief glimpse of platinum blond hair, saw nothing. 

Not that it mattered, he decided. Jocks didn't usually go for National Honor Society overachievers, anyway. 

**_End Prologue_**

I am clearly a crazy person, to start a new, long project when HISMSV is so very unfinished, and I'm kind of planning on taking the summer to do more original writing... But I really enjoy this one, and have it all outlined, so we'll see how it goes. 

Oh oh, and I have a new writing journal (linked in my info) which I'm very excited about, and people should look at. grin And don't forget, slashers, go sign up at the Refuge (also linked in my info). Woo! 


End file.
